


So Soon

by daring_elm



Series: You Look so Pretty but You're Gone so Soon [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Immortal!Virgil, M/M, Trans Logic | Logan Sanders, aaand sorry about roman, also we're off to a kinda rocky start but i promise it'll even out, and Patton, and i love analogical i'm so glad i get to write it, anyway have fun!!, but hey it's better now!, logan is cool and alive and i love him, some angst but hey what were you expecting, whoo not historical anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-01-23 15:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daring_elm/pseuds/daring_elm
Summary: In a final twist of fate, the universe pushes Virgil and Logan together. Despite knowing that this bond can't possibly last, Virgil can't resist the force pulling him into Logan's orbit. But maybe, just maybe, it's different this time.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: You Look so Pretty but You're Gone so Soon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1471898
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	1. Intergalactic

**Author's Note:**

> here i am- back on my bullsh*t! if you're knew, here's a warm welcome and a recommendation to read the first two parts before going on. if you're not new, welcome back! i hope you have fun reading :D
> 
> comments mean the world to me, and i greatly appreciate each and every one. to those who decide to leave one (or any more)- thank you <3
> 
> warnings for the first chapter: cursing; food
> 
> Quote at the beginning is from the TEDTalk "The psychology of your future self" by Dan Gilbert

"_ ...to give you an idea of the magnitude of this effect, you can connect these two lines- and what you see here- _"

"_ Fuck _!"

Logan jumped at the sudden interruption of his podcast, glaring at the man who had bumped into him. He gestured to pull out his AirPod, fully prepared to (figuratively) give him a piece of his mind, when he felt something cold and wet hit his shoulder. He held back a yelp at the sudden unpleasant sensation, shaking off what appeared to be iced coffee.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" the man said, his look panicked. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, he desperately needed the coffee he had just spilled. He set the now-empty cup on the table beside him, looking around frantically before grabbing a handful of paper napkins off the counter to his other side. "I should've watched where I was going; I'm so sorry; is everything okay?"

"Just fine," Logan said through gritted teeth. Why did this have to happen on the first day of the semester? Now he either had to go back to his dorm, change and be late to his first class or walk around with a stain on his shirt all day. Either way, his reputation was sacrificed against his will.

He set his reusable cup (a gift from Asa- it wasn't only practicable in terms of being less wasteful than single-use plastic, it also made him look more serious and hid the fact that he was drinking a mocha cookie crumble frappuccino) on the table next to the remains of the man's coffee (Logan could smell the bitter coffee on him- oh, he would be distracted by it all day), then took the napkins from him. At least he had left his prosthetic behind; cleaning the arm- especially without help- was more trouble than Logan was willing to go through today. He mopped up some of the freezing liquid.

The man frowned at him for a moment- Logan read confusion from his furrowed brow- before he noticed Logan's pinned sleeve. His face fell. 'Fuck,' Logan read from his lips.

Logan had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He glanced at his wrist, despite there not being a watch to read the time from in the first place, and gave the man a tense smile. "Have a nice day, sir," he said, then snatched his drink and walked out of the Starbucks.

* * *

Virgil rushed into the lecture hall two minutes before the class began. He hadn't meant to be so late, really- but standing in line for another coffee, especially with his overly caffeinated drink, had taken longer than he had planned. He glanced around the room- the back row was full enough to deter him from sitting there; as was anything near it. The only relatively free area was in the second row, without too many people to talk to, but still enough people to (theoretically) ask if he didn't entirely catch something.

It really was a lucky thing the spot was still available, Virgil thought to himself- he was even relatively shielded from the professor's view by-

_ Fuck. _

Right in front of him was the short guy with the missing arm he had spilled his first coffee on. Virgil tensed up, shrinking into his hoodie- never in his life had he wanted to be five foot eleven any less than he did right now. Hopefully the guy wouldn't notice him.

The pen he had been bending snapped in half, making enough noise to alert the guy and make him turn around- _ shit _.

His dark blue polo shirt and tie (shit, that looked expensive) were still splattered with coffee- a droplet had even gotten onto his glasses, clouding the lens. Virgil gave him a sheepish smile, and he huffed and turned around again.

Before Virgil could even begin to overthink, the professor walked in, a way too sunshiny smile for the time of day on their face. Virgil sighed quietly. This would be a long semester.


	2. Literature Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: food; mentioned arguments; cursing

"Right." Virgil set down the cups on the table, glancing at the bookshelves surrounding them. He allowed himself a smirk. "Strawberry cheesecake frappuccino for Logan?"

Logan gave him a pointed look, but a smile broke through his façade as he took the first sip. "Thank you."

"No problem." Virgil plopped down next to him. "The problem set was on page sixty-one, right?" He didn't know why he cared so much about studying- he hadn't cared the last time he was in school, and he hadn't even graduated back then. Thank God he had managed to pile on some money over the years.

"Correct." Well, Virgil knew why Logan was so focused on it- his scholarship took care of all expenses, and Virgil knew he couldn't afford to lose it. The way he talked to his parents (Virgil hadn't meant to snoop, he really hadn't, but there were some phone calls that were impossible not to overhear) just added to the tension. His mother spoke Japanese- Virgil could recognise the language, but not make out a single word- and Logan answered in English, arguing about grades and someone named Asa and binding (whatever that was). Virgil knew he probably couldn't take any pressure off Logan's shoulders, but he could do his best.

Logan leaned over his textbook, absent-mindedly chewing on a pen, and suddenly Virgil was very aware of his cologne, of the way the shitty fluorescent lights illuminated his dark eyes until they glittered like amber in the sun. His short eyelashes and rectangular glasses tended to cover his already small eyes enough that Virgil never got a good look at them, but now that he could do so somewhat inconspicuously, he was stunned by just how pretty they were.

Logan pursed his lips, scanning the page, and Virgil was positive he wouldn't be able to focus on chemical engineering today. The way his cupid's bow curled into the most adorable pout was just too much for Virgil's heart to take, just like the way his hand moved to adjust his glasses before he noticed they were on the table next to him, and he awkwardly rubbed under his eye instead.

And when Logan explained a specific mutation to Virgil, his face positively glowing with excitement, Virgil knew he had fallen in love again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, these chapters are probably gonna stay this short- i hope they're still worth your time


	3. Raging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: angst, death mentions

Virgil couldn't be in love.

He knew it wouldn't last. He knew it would hurt him in the end. He knew that losing someone else he loved would tear him to shreds, break him down to pieces until there was no way to put himself back together again.

The universe would punish him for it. It took Patton from him- as the years passed, the stars faded in the sky until he could barely feel his love anymore, and Virgil wasn't ready to let him go. He didn't think he could be ready for it. It took Roman from him, destining him to die a miserable and painful death before they even met. His sunlight was fading with summer as the leaves turned brown, but even when the sun was shining, Roman's proud light wasn't with it. Instead, pressing heat ruled, hell-bent on burning him down.

It made him leave home, leave his friends, leave everyone he had ever known and loved over and over again (Dot had died last year, and he barely talked to Larry since then), and it would make him leave Logan too.

It would make him die a miserable, painful death, make him suffer until he was freed from this horrible world. And it would make Virgil watch, unable to help.

Virgil couldn't be in love.

Logan didn't deserve to be tossed around by fate like he was- he already had enough things speaking against him, and while Virgil didn't understand all of it, he couldn't possibly add to that list. He couldn't break that boy down even more, couldn't bear to see the excited glow in his dark eyes when he explained things he liked die out. He didn't think he could live without his walking dictionary anymore- not that he usually needed to look up words like "magniloquent", but it couldn't hurt to know what it meant.

Logan was his man in the moon, his light through the darkest of nights, and Virgil was a satellite settling into orbit, circling him until he knew every last secret of that ghostly glow.

Virgil had lost the sun and the stars, and he couldn't let the moon be taken from him as well.

Virgil couldn't be in love.


	4. Someone New

**New Message(s) from: Logan✨**  
[We need to talk.]

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_, what did he do wrong? Virgil stared at his phone until his eyes watered and the message was burned in the back of his head. Could he pretend he hadn't seen it? He could drop out, maybe, or shoot himself onto the moon- he could survive out there, right? Maybe he could go back to the cottage and hang out with the raccoons- he was just as much trash as them.

Only problem was that they didn't have a Starbucks out there. Or service. Or anything, really, except for a weird cursed house, trees and water.

Virgil groaned, letting his phone fall next to his face. At least he didn't have to worry about confessing to Logan anymore; after that talk they probably wouldn't even be friends, let alone anything more. He had to say something back, right? Now that Logan knew he had seen the message.

[sure, what's up?]

Logan's reply was almost instant:

[You'll see.]

Virgil groaned, turning to hide his face in his pillow. He was _fucked_.

* * *

Virgil was late. Not that it was his fault- the subway took about twice as long as usual due to an electricity outage mid-tunnel that Virgil was convinced was caused by the universe trying to stab him in the back again, leaving him in the pitch black train surrounded by strangers and lacking the cell service to apologize for not being on time.

But he was late, and Logan was _always_ on time, and he would just hate him even more. Virgil swore under his breath as he dashed through the streets- he was just making everything so much worse. Another left, then straight ahead here, and- there he was.

Logan was holding two coffees- his prosthetic hand was clutching his galaxy-patterned reusable cup (though Virgil strongly suspected it held hot chocolate instead) and his real hand held the styrofoam takeout cups he complained so much about. He gave Virgil a tiny smile as he approached, cutting off the start of his apology by over-eagerly thrusting the cup into his hands.

"Oh, thanks." A little baffled, Virgil opened up the top, catching the scent of peppermint aroma- yup, the smell of Christmas. Perfect. "What do I owe you?"

__"__Nothing," Logan blurted. He was going pink, though Virgil couldn't determine if it was due to embarrassment or the frost nipping at his cheeks. "My treat." He tried another smile. His free hand was already pulling his miniature Rubik's cube out of his pocket, solving it without having to look. He messed it up again, then started over. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

Virgil nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. Logan was obviously more nervous than him, and Virgil couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign. All he knew was that Logan was so cute and cool (how was that combination even possible?) that he didn't know what to do with himself.

It took him a minute or two- they were leaving the shopping area, moving towards what Virgil thought was a park (he really didn't get out of the house enough)- to work up the courage to ask, his mouth dry with anxiety: "So, you wanted to talk to me?"

Logan gave him a sharp nod, not even looking in his direction. "I did." He raised his cup to his lips, and his hand was shaking enough he had to steady it with his prosthesis.

"Do you wanna do that now?" When Logan didn't reply immediately, Virgil followed up, stumbling over his words: "I mean if you don't, that's fine too, and I totally get that, we can just move it to another time or not say anything or-"

"I'm in love with you," Logan spouted, interrupting Virgil's rambling.

"...Oh."

Logan had stopped walking, very intensely staring at a pigeon pecking at the remains of a sandwich. "I presumed you would want to know. It's important to be clear regarding any bonds after all, platonic or not." He cleared his throat, bit his lip. Switched his cup to his prosthetic hand, adjusted hos glasses, then began drumming his fingers against his thigh. "...Should I take your silence as a rejection?"

"Huh?" Virgil snapped out of his thoughts (though calling them thoughts was a strong assumption, there had been more of a continuous error message popping up in his mind while Logan's words rang in his ears). "No! No, I…" He bit his lip. "I need some time to think, okay?"

"Of course." Logan's voice had taken a funny note, and he adjusted his glasses, then did so again, fiddling with them almost robotically. "I apologize for causing you any discomfort."

"No, no, you didn't- um." Virgil grimaced, then forced a smile. "I'll see you around."

It hurt to see Logan's fallen face as he stayed behind, looking even smaller than usual while he tried to look at anything but him. Virgil turned around, forcing himself not to look back.

* * *

Logan's eyes stung with repressed tears as he forced himself to look at the book in front of him despite not processing a single word. His attempts to ban Virgil from his mind had all failed miserably, and he replayed the words in his brain over and over again, the scene overtaking his thoughts.

Logan groaned. His face met the book, his forehead squishing against the photograph of Andromeda IX. His glasses dug into his nose uncomfortably, but he refused to move.

It was all his fault. If only he hadn't said anything, he would've been much better off- maybe Virgil even valued him as a friend and he destroyed even that. But Logan couldn't resist falling for him- his half-smiles made his heart beat faster; his warm eyes were fascinating (a pool of melted chocolate, glittering like brown tourmalines when he smiled); and whenever he bumped into him- accidentally or playfully- Logan forgot how to speak. He was metaphorically head over heels for Virgil, and in that moment, the desire to tell him had been infinitesimal. He hadn't felt this way in five years, at the very least. Giving up this crush so quickly was too painful to imagine.

Logan's cell phone buzzed- it was on silence almost entirely, but for reasons unknown to him, he had turned the sound on- and he sat up, unlocking it at the speed of light.

**New Message(s) from: Virgil Sanders**  
[strawberry cheesecake frappuccino for logan?]

And there he was, awkwardly smiling at him from across the library. Logan's heart flipped. He waved awkwardly, and Virgil's face lit up as he headed towards him, the drink in hand.

"Hey," Virgil said, placing down the plastic cup- Logan caught a glance of the writing on it before being distracted by the man in front of him. "So, I thought about it." He gestured towards the cup and Logan leaned in to read the looped handwriting on it.

_ Will you be my boyfriend?_ it read, _Love, Virgil. _

"The girl at Starbucks wrote it, not me- that's why it looks so neat," Virgil explained sheepishly. "She thought it was really cute." He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands. "So? What do you say?"

Logan nodded, unable to hide his wide, silly smile. "Yes, Virgil, I will be your boyfriend."


	5. On The Borderline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: crying; anxiety; surgery mention

**New Message(s) from: Logan 💙✨**  
[Please come over.]  
[Soon.]

Virgil snapped out of the trance the newest Twenty One Pilots album put him in, ignoring _Chlorine_ as it kept blaring from his headphones. What was going on?

[omw]

He called an Uber—the bus took too long, and Logan's dorm was too far away to walk. But each of the three minutes he waited felt like torture, and the questions repeated in his head: _What had happened? What was wrong? What if he came too late?_

Virgil ended up counting the seconds of the car ride to keep his mind off the issue. _There's nothing you can do; there's nothing you can do. Get there safely first._

After leaving the driver with a five-star rating and an immense tip, Virgil sprinted to the building, barely taking the time to catch his breath before knocking on Logan's door.

Logan opened up within seconds. His usually perfectly gelled back hair was sticking up in all directions; his eyes were red and teary. He was wearing a baggy t-shirt that failed to hide the lack of a binder beneath it and sweatpants he usually wouldn't be caught dead in, and he looked so messy and _not logan-y_ that Virgil was scared he had gotten the wrong room.

But only Logan would try and save face now—he wiped his thumb over his eye as if it could hide his tears, giving Virgil a sharp nod as he stepped aside. "Thank you for coming," he said, his voice so carefully neutral it couldn't cover up the shaky undertone.

Virgil stepped inside, slipping off his boots at the door, then turned to look down at his boyfriend, loosely putting an arm around his shoulder. "Lo, what's wrong?"

Logan immediately buried his face in Virgil's hoodie, shaking his head. Virgil felt a sob rack through his body and his heart shattered. "Hey, let's just—" Virgil guided him to his bed, sitting down awkwardly (he barely avoided Logan's phone), then pulled his boyfriend on his lap. He ignored his racing heart along with the queasy, anxious churning in his stomach.

Logan had never felt as small as in that moment, cradled in his arms. Virgil didn't dare try to ask again, so he just rubbed over Logan's arm in a motion he hoped was soothing. When Logan tugged on the back of his hoodie, Virgil unzipped it and wrapped the soft material around his boyfriend. They sat in silence, Logan shaking and crying and Virgil as calm as he could be with the hit his heart had taken.

Finally, Logan spoke, his voice still shaky: "I have an appointment for my mastectomy." He immediately hid his face again.

Virgil hummed sympathetically, but he couldn't deny his confusion—wasn't top surgery supposed to be a good thing?

"My insurance doesn't cover it." Fuck, there it was. "I can't afford time off from my studies; my parents certainly can't cover the price and unless I win the lottery against all odds, I won't be able to pay for the procedure." Logan took in a shaky breath. "I'll have to cancel the appointment."

"Shit, I'm sorry." Virgil squeezed his shoulder a bit tighter. "...There's really nothing we can do?"

"'We' can't do anything," Logan bit back, then winced. "Apologies." Virgil's hold on him loosened, and Logan curled in on himself, rubbing over his shoulder where Virgil's arm no longer was. "I just…" He cleared his throat. "I don't know if you can help."

"Can I try?" Logan looked at Virgil sceptically, and Virgil gave him a half-smile. "I can open commissions." Logan opened his mouth to say something (likely along the lines of "absolutely not"), but Virgil cut him off before he could start. "No, it's not a burden on me. I've been meaning to draw more, and I have too much free time anyway."

"What about your studies?" Logan argued half-heartedly.

"I've been slacking off there anyway—now I just have an excuse to. But you can be smart for both of us." Virgil kissed his forehead, already unlocking his phone. He created a new post. "Do I call it 'Help my Wonderful and Stunningly Handsome Boyfriend Get Top Surgery' or 'Emergency Commissions'?"

Logan let out a rare giggle, leaning on Virgil's shoulder to see the phone screen. He tugged the hoodie tighter around him, and Virgil's free hand hooked around his waist. "The second one."

"Then I'm mentioning your wonderful and stunning handsomeness in the post, though."

"I can accept that." Logan relaxed in his arms. They sat in silence for a moment while Virgil went through his gallery in search for his commission infos. "Virgil?" Logan asked.

Virgil looked up in the middle of typing. "Hm?"

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter took so long (and that it's less than great), i've kinda been struggling with writing lately-- we're getting to the good stuff now though!


	6. Where's My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: surgery/medical procedure/hospital mentions; anxiety; open ending

Virgil cursed as he redid the hand for the fiftieth time. It was such a simple style, compared to the realistic drawing he had spent eight hours on yesterday, but he couldn't concentrate on the linework, no matter how hard he tried. He sighed and turned off his tablet. It was no use.

Logan had been in surgery for almost three hours now, and with every minute over the expected time (twenty-seven and forty-two seconds), Virgil got more anxious. It was stupid, and he knew that—Logan had done his research, and there was no way he had chosen a surgeon with any hint of a bad reputation, or decided on a procedure with too high a risk.

Still, Virgil couldn't help but worry. It was almost ridiculous to think so, but deep down, Virgil knew that every moment with Logan could be his last. He had lost Roman and Patton too—one after a long and ultimately hopeless battle, and one within minutes when he was least expecting it. But both of them went so fast, leaving a hole behind that stole his breath and left him with the inextinguishable fear that his man in the moon would be taken from him as well.

Virgil felt his heart speed and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He had to relax, after all, it was going to be okay. It would all be okay.

The door to the waiting room opened and Virgil jumped up when a man in blue scrubs came in. "Can I see him?" he asked. His heartbeat was speeding again.

The doctor cleared his throat and a deep, sinking feeling settled in Virgil's heart. "Mr. Prince had a severe reaction to the anaesthetic," he said. His sympathetic look was likely meant to be comforting, but Virgil had to clench his fist around his stylus so he wouldn't punch him. "We're suspecting an allergy. He was brought to the emergency room."

And for the third time in his eighty-six years of life, Virgil's entire universe fell apart.


	7. Mercury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: **hospitals**; needles; sensory overload; anxiety; death mentions; (prescription) drug mentions; autistic people not being listened to/misunderstood; mention of nightmares

The regular beeping of the heart monitor had faded into background noise hours ago. Virgil had been sitting on the hard plastic chair by Logan's side since visiting hours started again at two thirty, and it was almost naive to expect anything would happen for a while. But Logan should have been awake yesterday, within minutes after the surgery. He never should've ended up here in the first place.

Virgil couldn't even imagine what he would do if the universe took Logan from him here.

He checked the time on his phone—thirty minutes until visiting hours ended. What if Logan woke up while he wasn't here? Virgil was doing his best not to give in to cognitive distortions (a term Logan had taught him), but just the thought of his boyfriend waking up all alone in the stark white hospital room made him feel nauseous.

Virgil tapped his fingers on the spine of his sketchbook. He was running on five hours of disruptive sleep he forced himself to get (if Logan woke up now, it was possible that they could go home tonight, and Virgil wasn't about to drive after an all-nighter) and two—no, three coffees, and the caffeine certainly wasn't helping his anxiety.

The heart monitor sped up ever so slightly, and Virgil looked up. Logan's face scrunched in the way it always did when he was waking up and trying to adjust to reality around him. Virgil's heart felt a billion pounds lighter. "Logan?"

"Virgil." Logan opened his eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again. "Bright," he said.

"I know, I know—Lo, you scared the shit out of me. Don't you  _ dare _ do that again." Virgil ignored the tears in his eyes—God, he was so  _ relieved _ , he needed to hug his boyfriend (but his stitches probably wouldn't like that).

"Happened?"

"Some—some kind of reaction to the anaesthesia, you've been gone since yesterday. I'm so glad you're awake,  _ fuck— _ "

"Arm?"

Virgil frowned. "Still at home, I didn't go back to get it. Didn't you say it would be too uncomfortable?"

" _ Arm _ ."

"I just said it's at home—do you really need it? I think we might be able to go back today anyway—oh." Virgil nodded when Logan moved his arm, then flinched noticeably. "Yeah, that's gotta hurt—you're attached to an IV, they put a band-aid on to keep it there."

"Off."

"L, that's  _ inside _ you, you can't—“

" _ Off. _ "

Just as Virgil was about to protest, a nurse came in. "How are we feeling?" she asked Logan.

"'We'," Logan replied through gritted teeth, "are quite distressed by the twenty-two gauge needle in our only arm and would greatly prefer the electrocardiogram would be quiet for  _ three seconds _ —"

"Is there any way to silence it?" Virgil tried. "Or at least turn off the lights, or something like that?" Logan's jaw was clenched so tightly Virgil could practically feel his teeth grinding together, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He was gripping the side of the bed in an effort not to dislodge the needle any more.

The nurse seemed to be taking a lot less notice of Logan's mental state. "It's just a check-up, sir, don't worry. We can take out the IV first—" She reached for Logan's arm, and Logan snapped back.

" _ Don't _ touch me."

"I'm sorry, but I have to—" The nurse reached for him, and Logan winced as he moved his arm again.

"Please." Logan glanced at Virgil for help—his eyes were still unfocused with sleepiness and the lack of clear vision (Virgil distantly noticed his glasses on the table to his side)—and Virgil bit his lip.

"Would it help if I'm there?" He barely had the time to catch Logan's hesitant nod before the nurse cut in again.

"There's no need to be scared!"

"I'm  _ not _ scared."

"Can I take over any part of it? Maybe? Like, not stuff with the—um." Virgil looked at the IV needle nervously. "I just think it could help."

The nurse gave Logan the same glare one would give a disobedient dog or a screaming baby on an airplane (which was promptly returned), then sighed. "Of course."

* * *

The sun had long set when Logan was discharged. It was a long ride home, and midnight would be long passed when they made it to Virgil's apartment, but at least they had made it out at all. Virgil was carrying Logan—despite the breaks they had to take every fifty feet (he  _ really _ had to work out more), it was faster and easier than trying to prop up his far shorter boyfriend and walk him back that way.

"What if this stay isn't covered either?" Logan mumbled. He was already drowsy again, burying his face in Virgil's hoodie.

Virgil shook his head. "Don't worry about that," he said, already worrying in Logan's place. But there was nothing he could do but hope the universe would leave them be. The rules insurance companies based their coverage on could change within minutes under whichever circumstances they pleased, and if Virgil had to listen to someone say this accident had been Logan's fault he would probably spend the rest of his already extensive life in prison for manslaughter.

Logan nodded. "I'll try not to." And with those words, he was out like a light.

* * *

Logan's rest was far from peaceful. The hours he slept over the next few days (wasted time, he remarked bitterly at one point) was made up by him waking up dozens of times each night.

Virgil couldn't stand being powerless against the nightmares that tore his boyfriend out of the sleep he desperately needed. He hated that he couldn't take away any more pain than the opioids did (and Logan was already hesitant about taking those, from skipping doses to taking only half of what was prescribed). He despised how  _ long _ healing took, and he loathed that—no matter how much he pushed the thought away—sedated, drowsy Logan reminded him of Roman before his death, so much so that it took his breath away.

But Virgil took care of Logan between work and art and the occasional sleep he got. He just had to keep going, had to keep reminding himself that with enough time, Logan would heal. They would be okay.


	8. Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: talk of death, illness, overworking oneself, surgery, hospitals, general trauma

It had been three weeks since the surgery. Logan was finally at college again—his contentedness with that fact was near impossible to miss. He was back to drinking ridiculously sweet coffees, moving around the apartment independently (he had practically moved in with Virgil after the surgery) and studying for about twice the time that Virgil spent at work and college combined. Virgil worried that he was studying  _ too _ much—he was forgetting to eat regularly, sleeping far less than the recommended (and honestly essential) time, entirely ignoring discomfort and pain.

And every time Virgil had to see that ghost of the man he loved so much, barely reacting to his presence enough to break from the chemical–engineering-induced trance he was trapped in, he was reminded of Logan’s near lifeless body in that hospital bed in away that made his heart ache. He couldn’t bear to lose Logan again, even if it was for so little time.

* * *

Virgil swirled his cold coffee around for the hundredth time, staring as the off-beige liquid coated the inside of the black mug before merging to a single depressing puddle again. Even though it was well past midnight, Logan was occupying the living room, surrounded by papers only he could find a system in. Virgil took another sip of coffee and grimaced.

“Hey, L?” he called.

A few seconds of silence followed, but finally, a disgruntled voice answered: “What is it?”

“Can we talk?”

More silence. “Give me three minutes.”

Virgil nodded to himself, then stood up, pouring the remains of his coffee into the sink.

And as he promised, Logan showed up in the kitchen three minutes later. He was still wearing his prosthetic arm—Virgil had helped him put it on that morning under the promise that it would be off by noon. He adjusted his glasses, the synthetic skin he had only allowed on his fingertips (to make operating his phone possible, for instance) smudging the lens. “You wanted to talk.”

Virgil cleared his throat. “Yeah. Uh…” He fidgeted with his sleeve. “Look, this is gonna sound really stupid, and I’m sorry for bothering you but I kinda wanted to say something for a while but it never felt  _ right _ , so I—”

“Virgil.” Logan interrupted his rambling. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Virgil inhaled sharply. “I’m immortal.”

Logan let out an unbelieving laugh.

“I was born in 1932.” Virgil didn’t dare look at Logan’s face for his reaction, but he wasn’t interrupted, so he continued speaking. “Remember how I told you about Patton?”

Logan nodded.” You grew up together, but aren’t in touch anymore.”

“He was murdered.” Virgil coughed, but it didn’t clear his throat of the knot quickly forming in it. “The guy who did it shot me too, but I survived. Still have the scars.” He brushed over the front of his hoodie.

Virgil looked up in time to see Logan’s perplexed gaze skim his torso before refocusing on something behind him. “I don't understand."

"I know it's weird, and I have no clue how any of it happened, but—"

"That isn't what I mean." Logan sounded frustrated now. "Where's the punchline?"

"Huh?"

"All jokes tend to build up to some punchline. The tension is dropping in yours, and I couldn't discern it. Where's the punchline?" Logan crossed his arms, resting his prosthetic on his real forearm and hugging himself with both.

"It's not a joke!" Virgil had to hold himself back so he wouldn't hiss, but he couldn't help the sharp undertone. "Wait here."

He was muttering curses under his breath as he dug out the box that had been sitting under the bed since he moved in, pulling out papers and photographs at random. Finally he had a stack he was happy with and he returned to the kitchen, setting it down in front of Logan.

Logan was pouting (something he would immediately deny if asked—the great and serious Logan Prince didn't  _ pout _ ) at him—that was, until he picked up the photograph at the very top unwillingly and his face fell. He flipped it around to read the date on the back—January 1986—and Virgil got to see Roman, already clearly traced by AIDS, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Adam had taken the picture at their wedding.

"Oh," Logan said, then: "Is that Roman?"

Virgil nodded.

"Nineteen eighty-six," Logan read. "That's…"

"I know it sounds fake," Virgil said past the uncomfortable lump in his throat. "Or impossible, really, but I mean it. I'm  _ so fucking old _ , and I've tested it enough to be pretty sure I won't die." His hand opened and closed again, and he pulled his sleeves over his suddenly very vulnerable-feeling wrists.

"You're over eighty years old."

Virgil nodded again. "That's the even weirder part. I'm sorry, I probably should've told you earlier—to be fair, I wasn't really planning on it at all, but then you had the…" He cleared his throat.

"The incident."

"Yeah, and you looked so…" Virgil cleared his throat again, but it didn't remove the pathetic, whiny undertone from his voice. "So  _ dead _ , and I was so worried I'd never see you again, so I just…"

"I understand." Logan bit his lip. "I'm sorry—that you had to go through all that, I mean. It sounds…"

"Unimaginable." Virgil smiled awkwardly.

Logan nodded, already picking up the next picture (titled: "Boys' Year 11, 05/09/49). "You're there, aren't you?" He pointed to Virgil's blurred face.

Virgil let out a low laugh. "God, yeah. I shouldn't have taken that one; I don't think I was ever less attractive than when I was 15."

"If I could actually discern more than the blurry mess this image is, I could easily prove you were stunningly handsome, even back then." Logan stole a kiss from Virgil's lips, then frowned at the image again, his forehead scrunching in a concentrated pout. "Which one is Patton?"

"Here." Virgil tapped the shorter figure in front of him—he would recognise that mess of curls anywhere.

They talked for hours, going through pictures and drawings (Virgil was cringing through most of his teenage art) and anything else they found in that box—they both shed that night, but when they fell asleep early in the morning, their limbs entangled with Logan burying his face in Virgil's shirt, practically purring, Virgil couldn't help but feel that the universe had sworn to let them be.


	9. Be Wherever You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: death mention, food

Spock yapped, bouncing around Asa's heels as she carried another stack of boxes up the stairs. She shoved him to the side with her foot, and he ran off to bark at Logan instead. Logan was grinning wide enough that his entire face shone as the dog hurled towards him with all its three-legged might. Spock jumped on his lap, trying to lick his face, and Logan shoved him away half-heartedly. "You bad boy," he scolded Spock, tousling his cloudlike fur. "We don't just go and lick people, that's forbidden."

"Berry, where does this one go?" Asa called from the kitchen. Spock barked, all too pleased to be adding to the noise.

Logan brushed over his back, then got up. "What does it say?" he called back, then told Spock: "Go pester Virgil."

As Logan followed his sister's explanation of Virgil's doodles (his boyfriend seemed to have an aversion to leaving comprehensible instructions) into the apartment, fully prepared to embrace his role as newly crowned interior designer, Spock ran off to his taller dad.

Virgil took the last boxes out of the moving truck—the only thing left inside were the couch and a queen-sized mattress, both of which he wouldn't even try to carry alone—and picked up a large plastic box that held Logan's carefully secured houseplants. Spock barked and he startled, nearly dropping the box.

"Hey, buddy!" Virgil smiled at the dog. "I gotta train you not to not to scare me like that." Spock barked again, running around him in circles—he tripped at a sharp turn his missing leg couldn't catch him on, shook himself, then continued to circle him from the other direction. Virgil chuckled. "I'm starting to think you weren't named all that well." He started making his way up the stairs, keeping an eye on Spock so he wouldn't trip over the overenthusiastic dog.

* * *

It didn't take long to carry the mattress up the stairs, in comparison to the time they took with the couch after getting it stuck in a bend. Finally, though, everything made it upstairs, and Asa brought the truck back and returned with pizza (and garlic breadsticks for Logan).

"Did I ever tell you you're my favourite person?" Virgil asked Asa after the first bite of triple mozzarella, ham, olive and anchovies pizza, which Logan was eyeing suspiciously.

Asa snorted. "Don't let your boyfriend hear that." She turned to Logan, giving him a grin and saying something similar to "I might steal him away from you!" through half a slice of pineapple pizza.

"I'm fairly confident there's no need for me to worry about that," Logan said coolly, making his sister scoff. She punched him in the shoulder. Logan rolled his eyes, checking his messages quickly. "My mother's coming by tomorrow. She says she's bringing food for the week."

Virgil's smile widened. "Yes, no cooking!" He finished his slice, immediately reaching for the next. "Tell her I said hi."

Logan nodded. He switched to the kanji keyboard on his phone—how that thing worked was still just a step away from a mystery to Virgil—and typed in a message, then said something in Japanese to Asa.

Asa responded in Japanese as well, then shoved the rest of her slice in her mouth and the rest of her speech became incomprehensible, regardless of the language she spoke. She swallowed. "By the way, what do your parents do?"

Logan got very quiet, his attention entirely focusing on the screen. Virgil stared at his pizza. "They died when I was younger." He grimaced.

Asa's face fell. "Oh, fuck, I didn't mean to—shit, Virge, I'm sorry." She gazed at her empty pizza carton (it was a mystery to Virgil where all that food went—she was barely an inch taller than his 5'3" boyfriend, and he ate like a sparrow), biting her lip.

Virgil smiled at Asa. "It's okay, it was a long time ago. I barely even remember them." He held the hand he was hiding a pizza crust in under the table and Spock took it, plopping down next to his foot to eat.

Asa nodded, lost in thought, then shook her head. "I'd better be off." She stood up, tousling Logan's hair. Spock barked, grabbing the rest of his pizza crust to proudly drop in front of her.

Logan gave Virgil a sharp look, and Virgil snorted. "Traitor." He glared at the dog in faked disappointment.

"Bye-bye, you dumb little cloud." Asa played with Spock's fluffy ears. "Oba-san's gonna miss you." She kissed his forehead, then moved her face away before he could lick it, looking at Logan instead. "And you too, I guess."

Logan snorted, and Virgil said: "Thanks for the help today." He stood up, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"No problem." Asa saluted, then grabbed her bag and left with a last goodbye thrown their way.

* * *

The bedframe was still in its box somewhere, so Virgil and Logan were curled up on the mattress in the living room to sleep, Spock at their feet. The dog was snoring softly.

Logan squished his cheek against Virgil's chest. "I'm sorry I was so useless today."

"Pssht," Virgil said. "You made a great interior designer. Plus you kept our son busy."

Logan snorted. "He's a dog."

"He's our child, Lo, accept it." Virgil brushed over the one spot on Logan's nape that he knew would turn him to goo immediately and as expected, Logan melted in his arms, unable to manage more of a protest than a low mumble. Virgil's laugh prompted more of a growl, but it was hard not to notice the sleepiness taking over.

They stayed in silence for another minute or two; the only noise was Spock's snuffling as he rolled on top of Virgil's feet, pulling the blanket away. Finally, Virgil broke the silence. "The fourth of July weekend is coming up."

"Mm?" Logan said.

"There's this place I want you to see, would you mind a bit of a trip?"

"Course not," Logan mumbled. "Sounds lovely."

"Perfect." Virgil kissed the top of his head. "Good night, Lo. I love you."

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this is my favourite chapter for this story :D
> 
> we're almost at the end now!


	10. Meteor Showers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of death, kinda existential shit, fireworks
> 
> i'd recommend rereading [ready now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20460422/chapters/48546905) before this one

The house looked just like Virgil remembered.

Dust covered every surface, from the astray tablecloth to the shards of glass in front of the still-broken grandfather clock. The bright July sun shone through the windows, illuminating portraits in picture frames and houseplants that were thriving despite not having been watered since 1956. Nothing had changed, and that fact sent a shiver down Virgil's spine.

Logan stepped up behind him, taking his hand soothingly. "Would you prefer to go back to the hotel? It's getting dark."

Virgil shook his head. "This isn't it yet. I just…" Before giving Logan a tense smile, he cleared his throat. "Just a moment."

Logan nodded and stepped back, leaning against the railing of the porch. Virgil walked inside.

He avoided the creaky floorboard to his right almost instinctively, avoiding bumping into empty milk bottles by half an inch. The bit of milk that formed a ring at the bottom hadn't gotten mouldy, or clotted. Virgil shuddered.

He couldn't look at the clock for more than a second, his eyes sweeping past the bullethole so quickly he could almost pretend there was nothing there. Taking a single step up the stairs, he rested his hand on the banister, then immediately turned around again.

It was time to leave these memories behind.

* * *

Logan held Virgil's hand as he said his goodbyes to Patton—the grave was overgrown with weeds; the rose bush he had planted had long been replaced by wildflowers. Virgil couldn't help but imagine Patton wilting away with the flowers, finding an end outside of their cursed house. He had been able to go on.

Now it was time for Virgil to go on too.

He looked at Logan, squeezing his hand with a soft smile, which his boyfriend promptly returned. "I know a place I wanna show you," Virgil said, and Logan nodded.

"Lead the way."

* * *

The clearance was smaller than it had been in Virgil's memory, but the important things remained—the daisies hidden between stalks of tall grass, the oaks surrounding the meadow, the clear view of the stars above that made the heavens seem all the more close. Virgil sat down, Logan mirroring him. He boyfriend hadn't taken his eyes off the sky since it was visible between treetops again, and Virgil couldn't believe how absolutely fucking beautiful the excited shine in his eyes made him.

They lied down, and grass tickled the side of Virgil's face as he looked over to his still positively glowing boyfriend. "It's  _ beautiful _ ," Logan whispered. Virgil simply hummed in confirmation.

The first firework exploded in a blast of red, making both of them flinch at the same time, then laugh. Logan cuddled up closer to Virgil, their fingers intertwining again. He laid his head on Virgil's shoulder.

They stayed quiet for longer than either of them could keep track of, watching blast after blast light up the night sky. After a rain of royal blue, Logan broke the silence. "You'll remember me when I'm gone, right?"

Virgil nodded and smiled, simultaneously pressing a kiss to Logan's forehead and sticking a daisy behind his ear. "Definitely," he promised, and he knew the universe was listening when he continued: "I'll remember you 'til the end of the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's this series ✨
> 
> i'll keep writing [extras](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512188), so you can check those out if you like!
> 
> my next project is the danger days series, subscribe to be notified about that one! i'll try to get the first chapter out during this month, or in january at the latest!
> 
> thank you to everyone who commented, y'all made up so much of my motivation and you're truly wonderful 💖
> 
> i hope to see you all again soon!  
love,  
casey 🌳


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